


ever ever after

by ivyrobinson



Category: Anastasia (1997), Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally
Genre: Enchanted AU, F/M, single dad dima
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:54:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23238043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivyrobinson/pseuds/ivyrobinson
Summary: enchanted inspired au. anya is a lost princess in new york city. dmitry is a single dad trying to hold it all together.
Relationships: Dimitri | Dmitry/Anya | Anastasia Romanov (Anastasia 1997 & Broadway)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20





	ever ever after

Dmitry Sudayev tightened his grip on his daughter’s hand as she attempted to break free. She was always running, trying to get ahead, trying to get to the next thing. (He had no idea where she had inherited that from.) 

“Evie,” he said, attempting to bite back the sigh in his voice. “No running off.” 

“You would still be able to see me,” she grumbled. 

Now he bit back a smile. “What’s got you in such a hurry?” 

Evie gave him a large smile, showing off two of her missing baby teeth. Losing a tooth was always a traumatic experience for her, as though her foot had broken off instead of a baby tooth. She liked to hold onto things. “I just want to get home.” 

“What do you have planned?” He asked, because she was his child and always had something planned. 

He wasn’t much older than her when he had lost his father, and he had lost his mother years before then. If he hadn’t raised himself, he would think her taking after him had been some sort of karmic retribution. 

“Nothing,” she said but said in a rather sing-song tone. One of the few and far between moments she resembled her mother. “I just love our apartment.” 

“No one loves a tiny two bedroom in Brooklyn,” he told her. “I got my eye on your Evka.” 

“You should anyway,” she countered. “Or else you’d be a terrible parent.” 

“You’re still about five years away from your teenage years,” Dmitry said. “Let’s not rush it.” 

She giggled, sounding her age again. “Do you want to know what I learned about in school?” 

“Always.” 

“Nothing!” She lifted up her hands. Well as much as she could lift the hand he still held. “School is bul…”

“Let’s not finish that sentence,” Dmitry said. 

Evie was already not paying attention to him, distracted by some sort of commotion down the street. 

She pulled on his hand again, “Papa, what was that?”

“I don’t know,” Dmitry pulled her back, but she stood her ground. 

Evie stood on tiptoes, trying to see ahead. “It looks like Princess Peach fell from the sky.” 

Dmitry stumbled, unsure what to do with that ridiculous but imaginative thought. His daughter was usually pragmatic. Or at least as pragmatic as an eight year old could get. 

“You play too many video games with your Uncle Vlad,” he muttered. 

But then there was another motion, and a girl- well, woman- pulled herself up in a standing position. She was wearing a pink dress- a fancy gown, really, which did kind of resemble Princess Peach’s dress. Her hair was made of strawberry blonde curls and you could see the clear blue of her eyes from their slight distance. 

“Excuse me,” his child stepped forward before he could stop her. “Are you Princess Peach?”

The woman blinked. Once. Twice. “I don’t know.” 

“You don’t know who you are?” Evie sounded too curious now and he should warn her again of the dangers of engaging in conversation with strangers. 

“Evie,” he warned. 

“I…” the woman’s voice trailed off. “I was… and now I can’t…”

Evie looked up at him, her hazel eyes wide and looking to him as though he had all the answers. It was a look that had terrified him when she (and he) was younger and now he was terrified to lose. “Papa?”

Dmitry instinctively picked Evie up, before stepping forward towards the woman. “Do you need help?”

“I think I’m supposed to meet someone,” she said. 

“A prince?” Evie ventured. 

The woman laughed. “I don’t think so.” 

“Do you have a name?” Dmitry tried. 

She took a breath and said, “They call me Anya.” 

-

Anya had no idea how she had gotten into this ridiculous dress. One moment she had been trying to avoid an overly attentive soldier and the next she had fallen into a bag of garbage. And was wearing a beautiful, but nothing like she owned, dress. 

Her memory, always hazy and never clear, became even more muddled in this environment. 

“And who are...they?” The tall man asked her. He had handsome features, as though he had been drawn from a storybook. He held the young girl towards him, protectively. Her features clearly marked her as his child. 

Anya smoothed down the skirts of her dress. “The nurses at the hospital. I woke up with amnesia and…”

At the mention of her amnesia, he relaxed his stance a little. 

“Did you just leave the hospital?”

“No,” she shook her head. “That was almost ten years ago. I never regained my memories.” 

The girl gasped, directing her question to her father. “You can lose memories?!” 

“It’s not common,” he reassured her. “Is there someone we can help get you to?” 

“We can help you find your memories,” the child offered. If only it were that simple. 

Her father laughed uncomfortably, “It’s not like that, poppet.” To Anya, he said, “Someone or somewhere?” 

“I don’t know,” she admitted, defeated and embarrassed by her lack of knowledge. “What is your name?” 

“Sorry,” he apologized. “I’m Dmitry.” 

His daughter extended out her hand, “I am Eva Dmitrievna Sudayev.” 

“What did we say about giving out our full name to strangers, Evie?” he whispered to her. 

“But you’re talking to her,” Evie responded in less than a whisper. 

Dmitry looked like he wanted to argue, but instead took a breath, and focused on Anya, “If you want to come with us, we can bring you to a shelter to help with tonight?”

Anya wasn’t quite certain what he was talking about, but she had no idea where she was or how she had got there and the little girl was friendly, which spoke well of her father.

So she followed them.

-

“I’m sorry, Mitya,” Polly told him. “We are just all booked up this weekend.” 

She reached over and ruffled Evie’s hair. She was down on the ground again, now they were at the nearby women’s shelter his friend Paulina helped manage. “It’s been a rough week for all of us.” 

“So you don’t know where else to send her?” Dmitry asked. 

“I’d take her in,” Paulina said. “But I’m at capacity in my own apartment.” 

Evie gasped and he knew what she was going to say before she said it. “We can take her in.” 

“She’s not a stray cat, Evie,” Dmitry pointed out. “She’s a human being and they’re a little more complicated than that.” 

“You used to be more charitable,” Polly said, pointedly. “And take in people in need.”

Paulina had been lost and without a home as well when he first met her. She had also been a prostitute running away from a bad situation and he had helped her. He had also been 19 and did not have a child at home he was responsible for. 

He had ended up doing the same for her two other friends, Marfa and Dunya. But again, he had been younger and not responsible for anyone but himself. 

“And,” Paulina said, to twist the knife in a bit further. “You, of all people, know what it’s like to live without shelter.” 

He should’ve guessed that was coming. 

“I don’t know if I should let a stranger in with this one,” Dmitry said, pointing down at Evie’s head. 

Polly looked over his shoulder to where Anya was standing off to the side. She looked at her and looked at him, “I think you can take her.” She pointed at Evie, “And I think you can protect this one just fine.” 

Evie looked up at him, blinking at him. 

He guessed they were going to have a houseguest that night after all.


End file.
